Echoes
by LeonaWriter
Summary: The Doctor finds he's picking up strays again, and Jethro has a problem that needs someone clever. Echoes can linger far longer than a single voice, especially when so many believe in them.


Echoes

...

The Doctor had known he was being followed for some time now. He just hadn't seen any reason to bother doing anything about it.

All traces of the fact that he even existed had been erased from all of the databases in time and space. It couldn't be an organisation, and if it was a person, they'd either find out that he was the wrong sort of person to follow around for too long, or... who knew. It could turn out well.

Maybe.

They weren't very good at the whole 'subtle' thing, anyway. He could hear a voice not too far behind him apologising for knocking something over.

A voice he recognised.

The Doctor turned around, spinning on his heel.

A black haired, gangly boy, who was wearing black jeans and a back t-shirt with a 27th Century rock band slogan on it. A chain hung from the jeans belt to the pocket, but the overall look equated to one thing - he knew this boy.

The Doctor's eyes glittered momentarily in the memory, which was a lifetime and several centuries ago by now, but no less potent.

He could go. Leave, now, while they were both distracted. He was only there by chance, one of the Floating Markets in progress not far away had drawn his attention to the place and era. Nothing more. There shouldn't have been anything brewing. Not unless he really was that unlucky.

He sighed, and shook his head slightly, and then started making his way over to the commotion. It was hardly as though there was ever actually a choice, after all.

"Ah, sorry, is there a problem here?"

"Brat knocked over a whole stand of my priceless Yuanshees!"

Apparently, there was."

"But-"

"Priceless they were! One of a kind!"

"But I- I mean, they aren't-"

"Don't give me all that 'It's not my fault someone shoved me business, it's still coming out of your pocket!"

The Doctor stepped in, not wanting this to go any further than it already had.

"Now, now. I'm sure he didn't mean to. And we can come to an agreement. Now, Jethro, what were you going to say?"

For one moment, Jethro Cane looked back at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He the swallowed hard, and breathed deeply.

"I, I was trying to say. I don't think anything's broken. I think it... sort of didn't break. I think I did something to it."

His eyes flickered to the Doctor before going back to the collection of (not very nice-looking) decorative ornaments.

Which weren't broken.

"Well, then! See? Nothing to worry about. Come along, Jethro!"

Jethro dutifully followed along behind, keeping up the fast pace that the Doctor set - mostly to get away from the now baffled store holder, who was picking up his wears, before he could think up something new to accuse him of - but kept an eye on his surroundings, and the people and everything else.

The Doctor came to a stop far enough away that no one would associate them with the angry (and confused, by now) man, and turned around.

"All right, I'll bite. I want to know why you're following me, Jethro Cane. And don't think I haven't noticed. I do. I'm very good at noticing."

Jethro swallowed again, obviously extremely nervous, but didn't back away.

"I didn't come here looking for you," he started, trying to explain himself. "I just- it all started happening, and I saw you come out of that box. I thought maybe you'd be able to explain."

"Explain what? And why me? I might not even be the owner of that box."

"You introduced yourself to someone as 'the Doctor'. I don't think that's a very common thing, do you?"

The boy ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up on end. He didn't even bother to try and flatten it afterwards.

"All right," the Doctor said slowly, "I'll give you that."

In the 27th century, face- and body-changing technologies had become such that it wouldn't be that far-fetched an idea that the two men, completely different in looks, were actually the same person. Jethro was not to know that it was simply a part of the Doctor's biology, his heritage as a Time Lord.

"And... the whole explaining thing. I've... uh. Started making things happen. I don't know how. And to be honest it's freaking me out." He paused and looked away. "I thought... maybe you'd know what's going on. You're clever, right?"

He rubbed at his eyes, and only now did the Doctor realise that the boy looked like he hadn't slept properly in weeks. And given what he remembered of his parents... no, there wouldn't have been any sympathy from that quarter. Especially not with their last encounter with something strange.

"Look, about last time, if that was you, I just want- I want to say sorry. I am so, so sorry. I just-"

The Doctor held up a hand.

"It's all right. No. No, it isn't, but it's over, and we're different, and this is something else. Now, tell me."

Maybe there'd be an aficionado of old newspaper comics in the Market. He could get himself a sign that read 'The Doctor Is In'.

"It's like I said." The Doctor forgiving him (more or less) had apparently given him the confidence he'd needed, although some of the old nervous tension remained. "Things happen around me now. Those ugly things back there? That was me. I stopped them from smashing. I'll end up moving things with my mind. I think I moved at hyperspeed once - and I haven't the faintest idea how! Oh, and I think I tied up someone's shoelaces together back there, but they were being stupid and they deserved it. Really."

"_Really_. Well, then." Jethro could have been forgiven for assuming that the Doctor was referring to the idiot with the unfortunate shoelaces. "Any ideas?"

"Er."

"Oh, come on, you must have something."

The Doctor smiled for good measure, trying to reassure him that he wasn't trying to push.

"It's stupid."

"Psh. Nothing's stupid. Especially not if you think it even _might_ have something to do with it."

As he said so, he brought out the sonic, giving Jethro a good once over and not coming up with anything too out of the ordinary for the time period. Odd.

The boy watched the screwdriver for a bit, then drew his attention back.

"I keep having weird daydreams. I'll zone out and suddenly I think I'm somewhere else. Ancient history, or something... Sometimes I'll just randomly think something's off or out of place when it isn't. You don't... have any idea why that might be, do you?"

The sonic screwdriver was flipped back off, and the Doctor looked at it with a frown before pocketing it again.

"No... Not a clue. Sorry. Hang on, you say you can do that on purpose? Could you do it now?"

Jethro shrugged awkwardly.

"I dunno. Maybe. Maybe not."

"_Try_."

The boy breathed in and started looking around again.

"Right. Yeah, 'try', just like that. Like it's easy."

The Doctor watched him closely, ready to note any sudden change, anything that might set the boy who had been on that fateful trip with him on Midnight apart as wrong, off, different from then, from before things had started going wrong.

Nothing, at first. But then, at first he wasn't doing anything. The Doctor resisted the urge to tap his fingers or something to ease the impatience - and then he saw it. Jethro's attention was caught on something, a smile on his face full of mischief, and then, suddenly, his eyes glowed gold. Flared up with the non-human colouring and then faded out again, as if it had never been there. Jethro himself certainly hadn't noticed. A side effect, then.

But still, definitely interesting. And he was sure that he'd seen something of the sort before. He _knew_ he had.

It was right at the tip of his tongue.

"Any ideas?"

The question broke him out of his thoughts, but the slight frown of concentration stayed in place.

"Some." Oh, yes. He did, at least, have some ideas. "A few. Outlandish, silly ideas. But then, if I'm right, you've got an outlandish, strange problem yourself."

Jethro rolled his eyes.

"I _would_."

"Oh, don't be like that! It could be worse. It could always be worse. Come on, there's something I'd like to show you..."

...

AN: And I think I'm finishing there. I don't know whether I'll go further with this (I sort of had a semi-plot idea thought up where they go looking for this era's Arthur) or just leave it here for now and let anyone else who wants to, go for it and use it. As long as they credit me as inspiration or source material, that is.


End file.
